And On to the End
by UnseenCharacters
Summary: The reqeusted sequel to Back to the Beginning - what happened to Inigo *after* the film?


Author's note: I've said before, I think, that I mostly write when I'm not well. I'm not sure why that is, but I can't seem to get on with it unless I'm under the weather, or stupidly tired. It all just goes horribly wrong if I try. I should have realised I was coming down with something yesterday when I decided to dump all the proper work on my assistant and overhaul all our documentation.

Anyway, I said I'd continue this if someone wanted me to, damsel-in-stress asked and lo, they shall receive. I think I'm past the 'confused and rambly' stage of being ill, so hopefully I managed to keep everything straight in this despite having completely changed one of the characters halfway through...

_**Then on to the end.**_

Inigo didn't think Westley's offer of letting him take on the _Revenge_ had been serious. Even if it had been, Inigo had been in no condition to do any such thing. Adrenaline had kept him going until they reached the ship, and then he'd collapsed. The ship's surgeon had done what he could for him, but insisted that the Spaniard needed real help.

They'd put in at the first friendly port they came to and helped Fezzik get him to the local miracle worker. Paying for the treatment was, really, the least Westley could do, even if Inigo had only got hurt because he'd gone after Rugen. If nothing else, it had bought him the time to get to Buttercup's chamber.

When Inigo finally woke several days later, it was to see Fezzik's worried face and be told that the _Revenge _ was long gone. Inigo didn't really mind, he didn't think he was cut out to be a pirate anyway. Fezzik had found work that paid for a hut for them to live in and just about enough food, which was just as well as Inigo was still weak. The wounds Rugen had given him were now nothing more than scars, and looked as old as the ones on his face, but he even so, he needed time to regain his strength.

He spent the time wondering what he could do with the rest of his life. They heard soon enough that the Dread Pirate had been blamed for Rugen's death as well as the kidnap of the Princess, so Inigo didn't need to worry about being a hunted man. A few days after that came the news that Yellin and several other castle staff had gone to King Lotharon and told him a few things about his son and his intended bride and that the Prince had been thrown in the dungeons.

Florin was in absolute chaos, as the few remaining nobles fought amongst themselves to decide who would take over when Lotharon finally died, and a few of the other countries nearby were quietly checking the condition of their own armies and moving them not particularly subtly towards their small neighbour. Historians have been arguing ever since about quite what the original boundaries of Florin were, and about what exactly happened, but within fifty years both Florin and Guilder had more or less ceased to exist. In another hundred, most people wouldn't be sure they ever had done.

It may seem strange that such a thing could happen, but could you point to Mercia on a map? Even nowadays borders change all the time and countries change their names and before you know it the only mention you'll find of the places outside dry history books are a few street names and the odd rubbish local radio station. It happened even more, and faster, then, and people didn't tend to have much in the way of history book anyway. It was, largely, before schools for most people.

As soon as he was feeling fit enough, Inigo began to train again, more out of habit and boredom than anything, and just two months after he'd killed Rugen, he was in the town square with Fezzik, the giant taking on anyone who would fight him unarmed, Inigo taking on any fencer. They made decent money that way, and soon had enough for passage away from the pirate port.

The pair had no real reason to stay together. Both had been offered work separately, but staying together seemed the right thing to do, even if they had only met because of Vizzini. Fezzik hated to be alone, he was happier with Inigo there to make rhymes with him and generally make him feel less like the monster most people assumed he was. Inigo, too, found it better to be together. If he hadn't been spending his evenings helping Fezzik come to terms with the terrifying business of reading then he would no doubt have spent them in the taverns. If there was anything this place had a lot of it was taverns, yet Inigo hadn't so much as set foot in one of them.

With no particular destination but 'away' in mind, they took the first ship they could afford passage on. They found themselves in England, where they at once found a town square and began their by-now familiar routine again. Fezzik didn't know any of the language, but Inigo had learned it as a young man travelling the world to learn all he could of the sword. He was rusty, and he'd learned a different dialect, but he could get by.

There didn't seem to be many men here who were prepared to try their luck against Fezzik, even in groups, so he looked after the money and made sure the spectators kept to a safe distance. The first surprise of the day was a rich merchant, or possibly a minor nobleman, stopping to watch Inigo fight. The merchant had stood and watched one fight which Inigo won with ease, and then sent one of his servants to get him a chair and a drink. For two hours he sat there watching fight after fight, as Inigo defeated one man after another, and then finally three at once. After that, the man had motioned his guards forward – five men, obviously skilled. They paid Fezzik their fees, and Inigo bowed to them. They returned his bow, and took their positions. Inigo kept the five of them at bay for a full ten minutes, before finally giving each of them a tiny nick next to their right ears, one after the other. These show fights were always simply to first blood.

Inigo had expected the merchant to be angry, after all, the men were all well dressed, he presumably paid them well. Instead, the man laughed, stood, and went to shake Inigo's hand.

"I've never seen your equal," he told him, a chuckle in his voice. "You are too good to waste your time here... how much do you make in a day?"

Many men would have lied and given an inflated figure, but Inigo's response was honest, and it was just as well – the merchant's grasp of maths was rather better than Inigo's, and he had been able to calculate how many fights he would be able to manage in a day.

"A pittance," he insisted. "I shall pay you double to work for me. My guards do not like to travel. They've families here, you understand, but I have business to conduct. Will you come with me?"

"I do not leave my friend," Inigo said at once, "You take me, you take him. Same price." The merchant looked Fezzik up and down.

"He'll certainly be a deterrent to anyone who might mean me harm. You have yourselves a deal, gentlemen." They shook hands again, Inigo explained things to Fezzik in Dutch, which turned out to be the easiest language to use between the three of them. Nowadays it can be a struggle getting the Dutch to speak their own language to foreigners, but then there were so many sailors and traders from the Netherlands that while Europe's nobles tended to speak French to each other, common people who travelled were more likely to use Dutch.

They followed the merchant, a man by the name of Garstell, to a tailor to be measured for better clothes, which was a novelty for both of them, and then to his home, where they were shown to servants' quarters. For a few days they stayed there, Inigo sparring with Garstell's other guards and Fezzik playing happily with his young children. It was a new experience for Fezzik to not be feared, and not speaking their language he was never sure why these particular children weren't scared, but he was more than happy to have them climbing over him and taking rides on his shoulders, squealing in delight at being so very high up.

By the end of the week, their new clothes were ready – unusually quick, Garstell must have paid extra for that – and they were woken at dawn and went with him and a handful of servants to the docks. The children wouldn't let them leave before they'd said goodbye to their large friend, each giving him a gift of one of their favourite toys, which did not make the giant cry, honestly, there was just something in his eye. Inigo hadn't asked where they were going, as it hadn't seemed important at the time, but once they were under way, he realised it would be best to know.

"Uh, Sir, if you don't mind my asking... where is it we're going?" A large chest had been loaded onto the ship, and put into Garstell's cabin, and he'd requested that either Inigo or Fezzik should be with the trunk at all times, or at least outside the door, and the cabin next to his had been secured for their use. Fezzik would have to sleep on the floor, as the bed was far too small for him, but a soft mat had been put down. It was all unusually thoughtful. The idea that this was some sort of shady deal had already occurred to Inigo, and by now it was firmly taking root. He'd been fooled by Vizzini, and told himself that had he been sober it wouldn't have happened, but even so...

"Not at all," he said, cheerfully enough. "Italy. I have business there with an old friend. Nothing dodgy, you understand, just business, but I don't like to trust so much money to just anyone... to lose so much would ruin me."

"Yet you trust me."

"Ah, but I do know of you. I thought it might be you when I first saw you, but once I'd seen you fight, I was sure. You're Inigo Montoya, aren't you?" Garstell hadn't asked his name. Why would he, rich men didn't usually address their staff by their names, only by their functions.

"You've heard of me?"

The man laughed. "Who interested in the sword has not? I fenced a little in my youth, but then with the business doing so well I'd no time... I had heard you'd been killed, by the Dread Pirate Roberts, or that you'd taken to drink... I'm glad to see those were just rumours."

"Ah." Inigo said. "I did drink. My friend, Fezzik... he stops me. That is one of the reasons I will not be parted from him. As to Roberts... he nearly did kill me. He ran me through, and thought me dead... but Fezzik knew of a miracle man and carried me there, and used the money he'd saved to buy me a cure. That is another reason. The last is simply that he is my friend. I have travelled so much, I have never really had a friend before."

Garstell nodded slowly, and Inigo made a note to go to Fezzik as soon as he could to remind him of the story they'd worked out. "A true friend is a treasure beyond price," the merchant said staring out to sea. "The man I go to do business with today is the successor of a man I considered a good friend, though he was a nobleman. We had something of a falling out after his daughter refused to marry me. I would give anything to have been able to repair our friendship before he died. At the time, all I could think was that if he were a true friend, as he approved the match he would have demanded his daughter do as he wished... I know better now."

Inigo nodded. "Italian women are wilful... and all too easy to love."

"Ah, you too... refused, were you?"

"No... I had to refuse her. How could I wed, when my father had yet to be avenged? I could offer her nothing, not even the certainty of my return... she is married now, with beautiful children. It hurts to know that it is another man who has given her happiness... but I cannot blame her, and now I realise I would not have wanted her to wait for me... how could I wish for her to be lonely these fifteen years as I have been?"

"Of course... noble of you. Did you find the murderer?"

"In a way. I had just learned of his whereabouts when I encountered Roberts. I told Roberts my story before we fought, and just before he ran me through, he told me that the least he could do for me was to kill him if they ever met... next thing I knew, I was at the miracle man's, and Fezzik told me that Count Rugen was dead."

The nobleman nodded, thoughtfully. "Ah, so it was Rugen was it? I can't say I ever noticed an extra finger, but then, I wasn't looking. Perhaps one day you will trust me enough to tell me the truth, though, hmm?" With that he got up and walked off to talk to the Captain. Inigo frowned. He'd not been doubted before. He went and sat with the chest, making rhymes with Fezzik, until Garstell came back. They'd agreed that Inigo would take the first watch while Fezzik slept, so the giant left. To Inigo's surprise, the merchant had food brought for Inigo as well as himself, and motioned for him to sit at the table.

"I meant no offence, earlier... it's just... in your position, I would be burning with fury that Roberts took away your chance to avenge your father, especially with what you lost in the pursuit of your revenge, yet you seem calm."

"I studied with Piccoli, the master of the mind, so that my father's murderer would not be able to goad me into making a mistake," he explained. "I learned long ago to control my anger."

"Hmm. The other thing is that I find it hard to believe that a mere pirate could have beaten you... what I saw today... Rugen, though... now he was a master of the sword. Not your equal, but it would have been a close fight, I think..."

"I had been a drunk, remember," Inigo said, with a smile. "I was... far from my best. Still, had I been at my best, Roberts would not have won. It is for the best, though, that he did, else he would not have been able to rescue the Princess."

"Ah, that... Well... it all adds up, it just... it just doesn't ring true, somehow... how did you come to fight against Roberts in any case? If he was on his way to rescue the Princess..."

"Now that is one thing I am ashamed of. I needed money, and fell in with a bad sort, a Sicilian named Vizzini. He told us that we were protecting the Princess from Roberts, who he said was in the employ of the Guilderian King. We thought Roberts meant to kill her, to start a war between Guilder and Florin, rather than it being Humpedinck who planned it. Had I known the truth, I would have fought with him, not against him."

"I suppose in your dreams it was you that killed him?"

"My dreams are full of what I want but which cannot be mine," Inigo said sadly. "They always have been. In a way, they are a comfort. I need only close my eyes to have my heart's desire." After that, Garstell decided it was time for bed, so Inigo went to wait outside the door. It was tempting to tell him the truth, as he seemed to have guessed it in any case, but he knew that no matter how it seemed, it would not be safe to admit to having killed a nobleman. Killing other peasants or even merchants was often considered just one of those things, fights and duels were common enough, but killing noblemen was another matter.

* * *

The journey passed uneventfully, and when they arrived, they found coaches waiting for them. Garstell's luggage and servants travelled in one coach and the trunk, Garstell and Inigo in the other, with Fezzik sitting on the outside because there wasn't room for him inside. Talking to Garstell again for part of the way and dozing for the rest, Inigo barely noticed where they were going.

Inigo was snoring loudly by the time they arrived but Garstell didn't feel the need to wake him until the coach was coming to a halt outside the stables. It had been a long journey, they'd arrived later than expected, so there were only servants to greet them. It was a slight, a reminder that he was only a merchant and not worth a nobleman putting himself out. Garstell didn't seem to mind, but he did insist that Fezzik and Inigo share the room next to his instead of being taken to servants' quarters. The servants bristled at that, realising that they were hired muscle rather than fellow merchants despite their clothes, but gave in soon enough.

In the morning they were brought breakfast, and then went with Garstell to wait for the man they'd come to see. The merchant sat, while Fezzik and Inigo stood patiently – more or less – either side of the trunk. A servant came and took Garstell to the next room, presumably to conduct their business in private, and soon enough he came back, smiling broadly.

"Business concluded _most_ satisfactorily," he said, rubbing his hands. "So that trunk's the Count's now. He's suggested we spend some time in the rose garden before lunch. Apparently the Countess has been redesigning things."

Inigo nodded. "Shall we wait here?"

"No, no. No need for that. Come with us. I'm sure he won't mind my assistants coming along, they don't really stand on ceremony around here, from what I remember."

The Countess was absorbed in pruning the roses, her back to them, and didn't notice their approach. It seemed strange to Inigo that a Countess should be doing such a thing, as he had seen gardeners pottering around other parts of the grounds as they passed, but still. It must be terribly boring being a noblewoman.

As they got close Garstell began to speak, and the Countess turned towards them. Inigo only glimpsed her for a moment, before both Fezzik and Garstell were in the way, but what he'd seen had him frozen to the spot. It couldn't be her. He'd not really seen more than one eye and her nose, she probably looked quite different when you saw her whole face. Even so, Inigo was numb with shock.

"You look more beautiful than ever, my dear" the merchant told her. "I trust you're well?"

She had been about to answer, when there was a shout from outside the rose-garden.

"Giulietta, dearest! We have guests!" Inigo closed his eyes and listened to the crunch of the gravel as the man approached. "Ah!" he boomed, "I see they've found you already."

Inigo tried to remember what Piccoli had taught him, but it had all gone. He opened his eyes, and watched the man approach. He hated him, completely, just as he had Rugen. No matter what he had said to Garstell, this was the man who had taken Giulietta from him, the one who he'd seen when he was here before. He'd been prepared to meet Rugen, but even so when Fezzik had first told him, he'd passed out from shock. This man he had never expected to see again.

"Giulietta, would you be a dear and put away those things and sit with us?" the man, the new Count Cardinale, said as he approached, and she nodded and slipped away.

"My Lord, might I introduce my assistants, Inigo and Fezzik."

"Charmed, I'm sure," he said, slightly baffled, and shook hands with them, barely even registering their presence, let alone Inigo's stiffness. He'd not meant to shake the Count's hand at all, but he had such presence, he found himself going along with what was expected before he even knew he'd moved.

"Well, let's head to the gazebo, I've asked for a light luncheon out here, if that's acceptable... I suppose I should call for some more..." Imagine, if you can, Bertie Wooster crossed with Brian Blessed and with more than a touch of Antonio Banderas around the face and you have Count Cardinale.

A maid was just about to leave the last of the food on the small table in the gazebo when they arrived, so he sent her off for more before turning his attention back to Inigo and Fezzik. "I have to say I've never been introduced to assistants before, I'm rather at a loss as to how to behave. It's all rather more Giuletta's forte."

Inigo felt that finally he had himself under control, though every mention of her name was like a knife to his heart, a reminder of what he had lost. He'd been through Florin, several times, how he had never managed to come across Rugen before he'd no idea. He had been an absolute ass, and that had cost him the woman he loved more than anything. Why had he only ever mentioned the six fingers, instead of the rest of him? As Garstell had said, who but him ever really looked at another man's hands? Fifteen years, fifteen _wasted_ years, had done nothing to weaken his love for Giulietta. If such a thing were possible, it had strengthened.

Giulietta must have loved this man to marry him, though. Killing him, as tempting as it was, would get him nowhere. It had been madness to think a Countess would marry him, he reminded himself, a stupid childish dream. He was a peasant, he was an idiot, he couldn't even find one rather distinctive nobleman, in a tiny country which only had a handful of nobles, until he was just about led to him.

"You are a lucky man, Sir," he managed, trying not to let his emotions show in his voice. "Countess Giulietta is a remarkable woman."

"She is that, she is that... have you met before?"

"Many years ago, Sir."

"Aah... when she used to go about dressed as a peasant, eh?"

"Indeed, Sir."

"She stopped all that nonsense after she met that damn Spaniard." Inigo winced, but the Count wasn't looking at him. "By God, I'd like to get my hands on that one. The bastard would not have got near her had I been here."

"I've _warned_ you about that, Romero," Giulietta said brightly, appearing from behind Fezzik. "If your sons picked up such language..." Inigo dropped his head. This was hell, no doubt about it. He couldn't look at her. She sounded happy. He had to concentrate on that. She was happy now. "Anyway," she continued as she sat. "Now that we're all here, aren't you going to introduce your... assocociates, James?"

She looked round just as Inigo had gathered himself enough to look up. The expression on Giuletta's face showed as much hurt as Inigo was feeling. "I can never apologise enough, I know," he said quietly. "I'd no idea we were to be coming here, or I would not have taken the job. I was away too long, I would not have disturbed you for the world."

Giulietta swallowed and nodded, taking it to mean that Inigo no longer loved her, or had married another. "No, I... I suppose I never really expected... I mean... was it even true? The six fingered man?"

The others looked between them. James was shocked, Fezzik confused – Inigo had never told him about Giulietta – while Romero was furious. They didn't notice, all that existed for each of them was the other, their memories of their all-too-brief time together and the pain of their parting.

Inigo shook his head sadly. "Every word. I never dreamed it would take so long... you were right, Sir..." he said, unable to bear looking at Giuletta and turning instead to his employer. "It was not the Dread Pirate who killed Rugen, and it was a dagger of Rugen's, not the Dread Pirate's sword, which nearly killed me."

"Then... if your quest is over..." Giulietta murmured, hope blossoming despite his saying it had been too long, but the Count was furious.

"Oh, Giulietta, how many times have I told you!" he spat, standing. "He never intended to marry you! He said himself, he would never have come back." He turned to Inigo, towering over the smaller man. "I told you, Sir, that I should like to get my hands on the man who broke Giulietta's heart, and now I have you here, I demand satisfaction."

Inigo nodded and stood. The Count was several inches taller – which, in fact, was down to cleverly made shoes - and far broader. "I will not fight you," he said. "I cannot. Not when I have seen what fine children you have. I will never knowingly rob a child of its father."

"You'll not get out of it that easily," he snapped.

"No," Inigo said taking off his sword. "You misunderstand me. I will take my punishment, it is a just one, but I will not fight you. My father made this sword. It was his final masterpiece, the one Count Rugen killed him over. It would mean a lot to me if you would use it instead of your own." He laid it on the table between them.

"Wait!" Giulietta cried, "You said you had seen Romero's children! When?"

"When I came here to see you, and explain... I thought, as you are a noblewoman you might have learned who he was, and if not... I had started to think he must have died years ago. I had given up hope of finding him. Indeed, when I did find him, it was quite by accident while helping Roberts rescue Buttercup. I saw you, on your horse, getting ready to ride out, a girl by your side, and then you were joined by two boys, and the Count, and I knew I had lost you."

"So... you thought... oh, Inigo, no! Romero isn't my husband! He's my _brother!"_

Inigo blinked.

"But... you told the boys off, and the girl looked so much like you..."

"Well, yes, my niece and nephews... but I never married. I waited for you."

"Yes," Romero spat, "My sister wasted her life pining over you, and now finally you return, and you did not even mean to. I doubt you were as faithful to her as she was to you."

"No," Inigo admitted, looking away. "There was one woman, after I saw... _thought_ I saw Giuletta happily married. I ran from here, I didn't care where I went, and I found myself in Florin, drunk as usual, hurt, and lonely... we couldn't even speak the same language, but she looked a little like..." he shook his head. "She was gone in the morning, and she was the only one."

"Oh, you tell a fine story, Montoya, I'll give you that." He picked up Inigo's sword and pointed it at him. "I for one don't believe a word of it. Now come. Let's see if you are as honourable as you make out. Kneel."

Inigo stepped around the table and knelt in front of the Count. He closed his eyes and felt the point of the sword against his chest. "Romero, no, _PLEASE!"_ Giulietta begged, and Inigo felt the sword-point twitch as she pulled at her brother's other arm. His eyes stayed closed. His own death did not worry him, he had faced it before, but he could not bear to witness Giulietta's pain at her brother's actions – actions he understood all too well. He wanted to protect his sister, and he was right. Giulietta deserved better than him, a peasant, a drunk, one who had gone with another woman and probably would have gone with others after her, had it not been for the drink, then Vizzini keeping him busy, and then spending his time with Fezzik.

Except, really, he wouldn't have. He'd been drunk, and hurt, and lonely, and that one night, she'd been there... and after, he'd gone back to his old ways, not really ever thinking of women that way. He'd been drunk again, and propositioned again, and always he was lonely... but still he refused, or just affected to not have noticed. Perhaps it was just a habit too ingrained to break, but perhaps, even thinking that he had lost Giulietta, really he knew that he would always be hers.

"Don't, Sir," James said suddenly. "You know I fell in love with your sister when I first came here, as every man who comes here falls in love with her. You know I asked your father to make her marry me, I would have put my own happiness before hers, yet you accept me as a friend and businessman. If this man can make her happy, for God's sake, let him."

Romero snorted. "He'll just leave again."

"I'll take that chance." Giulietta insisted. "Please, Romero... Father approved the match, you know that..."

"That was fifteen years ago!" he snapped.

"And if I have him fifteen minutes now, I would count myself lucky. Think, Romero... how would you feel if you had been parted from Elisa for so long? You know how you pine whenever she is visiting her mother..."

The sword-point dropped away. "Oh, get up, then," he snarled, and again Inigo found himself complying almost without meaning to. "But don't ever think I'll accept you. I'll fight with all I have to see that my children inherit and not yours."

"Is that what this is about, Romero? Money? If it is, then... well, Father needed me, before, but he's gone now. I shall go to Spain with Inigo."

"You, live as a peasant? I can't imagine you could ever be happy with just _one_ pair of shoes, whatever you think."

"Please, do not fight." Inigo said quietly. "Family is precious."

"Oh, whatever," Romero said and stormed off.

Giulietta threw herself into Inigo's arms. "You... you _will_ marry me now?"

"I, uh... I should go to the Count," James said, uncertainly. He loved his wife, of course, but even so, there was still a place in his heart for Giulietta. "Come along, Fezzik," he said deciding that the couple should be left alone, and taking his great hand, he led the giant off in the direction that Romero had taken. The lovers barely noticed them go.

"If you'll have me, after I... well, in Florin..."

"You're a _man_ Inigo. It's different for men, no woman expects... well certainly not for fifteen years!"

Inigo shook his head. "There was no joy in women for me once I had met you. I would not have even considered going with her had I not been such a damn fool and thought... oh, I should never have left you in the first place."

"You could never have been happy, not until you'd avenged your father. You would have come to resent me for robbing you of your revenge, and I could not have stood such a thing. Even if you'd stayed after you saw Romero's children that would have happened. Romero will calm down. He's older than me anyway, so he has no need to fear our having children. He's just hot-tempered, like Daddy."

Inigo sat again, and considered. "You never said you had a brother, before. You said all this would be yours."

"Oh, a silly fight. Romero wanted to go to university, to do all sorts of things, but Daddy just wanted him to stay here and take over. When Romero said he was going to go abroad to study, Daddy said that if he left, he would disown him, but he went anyway. They didn't see each other for three years, didn't exchange so much as one letter. Daddy was sure Romero would come back when his money ran out, but when he came back, he'd made more money... he was so proud of him for making his own way in the world that all his anger was forgotten.

"Does it bother you that our children won't inherit this place?"

"I... I have no fortune, Giulietta. Even these clothes are not mine. Do you mind that? That we will be poor? That our children will be? We would have to keep their noble blood from them, I think, for them to be happy..."

Giulietta laughed. "Oh, to be with you is enough for me, it is the only thing I've wanted. Do you not remember your dreams? Eating scraps and sleeping in hay lofts? Oh, how I wanted that too... I can't imagine anything more wonderful than living in a little house with you, and our children."

Inigo shook his head sadly "I could not even buy you a little house."

"Romero is not heartless. I'm sure he'll give us enough money for that, at least."

"If... if you change your mind..."

"Oh, Romero would let me come back, if that's what you're worried about. He'd be unbearable for a few weeks of I-told-you-so, but he'd not see me turned out if it wasn't what I wanted."

Inigo nodded. "Very well then, Countess Giulietta Cardinale... my father is avenged, I am a free man. Would you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?"

"You try to stop me!" she said, and kissed him on the end of his nose.

* * *

They married in the Castle's grand chapel, Giulietta wearing her finest gown, and Inigo, at her insistence his own rough clothes. Fezzik, of course, was best man, and Giulietta's niece, who really did look like a younger version of her aunt, the only bridesmaid. There were few guests, if only because things had been so rushed, and after giving her away, Romero sat glowering at the pair. He'd said he would not be there, but he had never been able to refuse his sister when she cried.

It was, really, a disappointing wedding, and the reception afterwards not a patch on the ball she'd thrown for Inigo all those years before, but neither of them cared, so long as they were married.

Inigo had had women before he'd met Giulietta, after all, he'd been young and full of hormones. He was handsome, tall and fit, and the scars made him seem a little dangerous, his accent made him seem exotic, and Giulietta had been right – the village girls _did_ go nuts for him, especially if they'd seen him practising. As soon as he'd met her, though, he was sure he'd never look at other women in the same way again. He knew that now, instead of seeing them as an approximation of his rather vague dreams, he'd be seeing them as substitutes for Giulietta, that none of them would ever match up to the real thing.

It wasn't until the night of the ball that he realised that he would never again see a woman as a _substitute _for Giulietta so long as there was the slightest hope in his heart that they could be together. He was hers, completely, and those village girls could flirt and giggle all they wanted, they'd be able to do anything, and he'd not care. They weren't _her, _they would never have _him._ If anything, it made them want him more, and he'd left a string of broken hearts wherever he went, but never for long. Young love is all too often a brief matter, and he wasn't there, but that strapping young carter who always took his shirt off in the sun, he was...

They danced for hours, in each other's arms, and it was heaven beyond anything Inigo had imagined just to be near her, to be touching her, to be kissing her. Finally, she'd stepped back a little and yawned, and told him it was late, and time for bed. He'd bowed to her and kissed her hand, meaning to go back to Piccoli, but she'd kept hold of his hand and smiled, looking at him coyly from beneath her lashes.

"Well?" she'd asked, "Are you coming?"

Inigo's heart lurched. "I can't," he whispered. "My quest... I told you, I cannot marry you... Giulietta, my heart is yours, but until the six-fingered man is dead..."

"I know," she said with a slight blush. "I can wait... but shouldn't I know what I'm waiting for?"

Inigo took her face in his hands and kissed her. "Wait for that," he told her.

"Not enough," she replied.

Inigo sighed. "I will not dishonour you. Besides, your father... if we were caught, or you fell pregnant he would kill me." _And_, he didn't say, _for the first time ever_, _I am terrified that I will not please you, or you will laugh and decide that perhaps I am not so attractive after all..._ No other woman had ever _mattered_ and nothing, now, could matter as much as this.

"Oh stop being so... sensible. Daddy isn't a fool, and nor am I. It'll be alright." She'd let her hand wander a little as she spoke, just along his arm, but... and the look in her eyes... refusing her was suddenly not an option, and if she found him lacking it would kill him, but he didn't care.

"Which way?" he asked, licking his lips and trying to swallow with a dry throat, and she'd laughed and run off, pulling him with her.

He'd thought he would always remember that woman in the Florinese inn, but later when he'd tried to think of her, somehow he couldn't seem to remember quite what she looked like, or anything about the room even. Somehow, despite his broken heart, his mind simply slipped away from his one night with _her _to his one night with Giulietta. He couldn't picture the room in the inn, or anything about the woman's expression, not even what they'd done. He wasn't even sure he'd know her if he saw her again. All he could think of was Giulietta, her face, the finery of her room, their clothes tangled together in a heap on the floor...

Their wedding night was to be spent in that room, and all the old nervousness was back, multiplied. They walked there slowly this time, arm in arm, rather than laughing as they ran, and with every step Inigo's doubts grew. He was, really, a terrible worrier. If he hadn't been, then he would never have studied so hard at the sword, and several times on his travels, his caution had saved his life, but now he was almost paralysed with it.

If her memory of that night was anything like his own, then it had been perfection. How could he hope to live up to that memory tonight? He was so much older now. He had the new scars, he'd found a few grey hairs and he'd hardly taken care of himself, over the years. Before he'd been young and strong, not so much thin as lithe, but now he couldn't seem to think of himself as anything but a skinny old man. He wasn't lithe, now. He was stringy, well on his way to becoming the sort of old man who would be called spry. Giulietta was just as beautiful as she'd been then, a little more curvaceous, if anything, and she would be remembering the handsome young man he'd been...

There had been no sleep that night, but he was sure that what had seemed so easy, so natural, at twenty, would not be so at thirty-five. He was, of course, being too hard on himself, utterly convinced he could never be worthy of her. The village girls still went nuts for him, and the village women, now he was older, but he'd just stopped noticing. His mouth had run dry again, and he paused just inside the door. The rest of the castle had been redecorated, but this room was just as it had been then.

"I kept it the same," she said, seeing his expression, "to help me remember."

He nodded, wordless. "Shall we get on with making some new memories?" she asked, looking at him from under her lashes just as she had then. How could she do that? Where did she get the power to make all his insecurities just slip away, to seem like such utter foolishness? With a little more patience than they had before, they set about creating a new pile of tangled clothes.

* * *

The next morning, they'd left the castle on foot, both wearing peasant clothes. Nobody had been there to see them off except Fezzik, who had decided to stay with Garstell, perhaps realising that three would be a crowd, or perhaps just missing playing with the children.

They walked to the next town, and bought a little food, then carried on, until it had begun to get dark, when they'd taken refuge in a convenient barn. Oh, there had been an inn nearby, and Inigo had started towards it, but Giulietta had taken his hand and given him _that look_ again, and nodded towards the barn. "Shall we turn a dream into a memory?"

Being chased away by an angry ewe certainly hadn't been part of that plan, but as they laid on the grass afterwards, laughing as Giulietta tried to catch her breath – the run had been nothing to Inigo – they had to admit to themselves that it _had _been funny. Inigo checked that the next barn was empty before they went in. He'd expected that in the morning Giulietta would have changed her mind about the romance of sleeping on a pile of hay, but as scratchy as it had been, and as little warmth as his thin blanket gave them, she didn't seem to have.

She still hadn't a month later, or two. Inigo thought it best to try to earn what he could to pay for their food rather than using Giulietta's money and that had slowed them down, but at least they'd taken a ship to Spain rather than walking through France. Inigo wasn't a particularly good sailor though he was good enough that he could work his passage which made the trip cheaper, but even so he was surprised that Giulietta didn't complain about their quarters.

Still, they reached Spain at last, and she wanted to go to Arabella, but Inigo didn't. He'd no great love for the place, and didn't really remember any of the people who'd been there. He'd not played much with other children, he'd preferred to spend his time with his father. Oh, he had fond memories of his father and the little shack they'd shared, but he doubted that would still be there now, and if it was... that had been where he died, too. It would be too painful.

She settled for picking a direction and heading in it. Just outside the first town they came to, there was a small house for sale.

"What do you think?" She asked. "Not staying in inns at all, I've still got all the money I brought, we can afford it..."

Inigo frowned. Her talking about Arabella had made him think. "I... I don't know," he said "We shouldn't buy the first place we see. We should look at others."

"You don't want to do this, do you?" she said, seeing through what he was saying to what he was thinking. She sat down on a rock and Inigo sat down next to her, his head in his hands.

"No," he admitted. "It's... we're so far from your family... don't you miss them?"

She nodded. "A little, I admit..."

"All I do is take from you. I take your money, I take you from your family... I can't bear it."

"Shall we go back?"

"Only if it's what you want. I just... I miss my father so much, even now... when your family are alive, it seems wrong to be so far from them."

"Remember that they didn't see us off..."

"Romero didn't want us to marry. He knew that it would come to this. I cannot forget that you are a noblewoman... or that I am a peasant."

"Well, then, it's just as well that I am wise as well as beautiful," she said with a laugh, remembering what she had said to him so long before. "Why don't we do both things?"

"Both?"

"Yes. Let's buy a house here, not this one, we'll look at others, just as you say... and half the year we'll live there, and then, when I get to miss my family too much, or you just can't _bear _that I don't have all the luxuries I was used to, we'll go back to the castle for a time. Then, when I grow tired of merchants and other nobles being... well, other nobles, we'll come back here."

"And your brother would allow that?"

"Oh, he doesn't get a say in things. All that was father's is now Romero's, that's true enough... but don't you remember my saying before that _I_ was rich? All that was our mother's is mine, and she was just as rich as Daddy."

"Why didn't you say that before?"

"Well... firstly, I thought you might not want to have this little adventure if I did. Secondly, because if _Romero_ thinks that _you_ believed I was actually dependent on him and would have nothing if he didn't give it to me, then he _can't_ think that you only married me for my money, can he?"

"Oh. No, I suppose not."

"So, he's actually got no reason to be upset at you."

"Aside from the little matter of leaving you alone for fifteen years," he said, wryly.

"Oh, he'll get over that. As I said, he takes after Daddy rather. He's always like that. Anyway, I'm not sure that whole business with your sword wasn't just him testing you. I think he expected you to run away."

"Then... if you are rich... why are we here at all?"

"Well... it was an adventure, and it's what you dreamed, isn't it, more or less? I wanted to give you that... and anyway, being rich _can_ be terribly dull. We could always buy something a little nicer, a merchant's villa or something, and use it as a holiday home, if you don't want to do the whole peasant thing."

He shook his head. "Still I am taking and taking..."

"You give me your love. That's priceless."

"You trade for it with your own."

"Well, then... there is one other thing you've given me..."

"What?"

She leaned over and whispered in his ear, and he blushed. "Again," he said, "That is a trade."

"Well, I shall think of something. But perhaps it would be easier for you if you remember that while money has a value for you, for me, it's just _there._ It's nothing. I've spent more on one dress than we have on this whole trip, even if you count the money _you_ earned. I'm not sure I even wore it, ever..."

Inigo shook his head. "Well then... what now?"

Giulietta thought for a moment, then stood up. "Which way is Madrid, from here?"

Inigo waved vaguely. "Over there somewhere, why?"

"Because I have a house there. If we head back to the port we can get a coach there. I suppose I _would_ like a nice bath."

Inigo laughed, shaking his head as he began to follow her.

"Don't ever stop surprising me."

* * *

Inigo helped Giulietta down from the carriage and looked around. It wasn't a house, it was a _mansion. _A small group of servants were stood seriously to attention in front of the doors.

"Welcome home, Countess," the housekeeper said stepping forward.

Giulietta nodded. "Bath!" she said, with real feeling, and two maids scurried off. "Uh, tea on the terrace at four, I think, dinner at eight. Tailor and shoemaker as soon as they can get here."

"Will that be all for now, Ma'am?"

"Yes, I think so," she said and swept indoors. It wasn't easy to sweep in a dusty peasant dress, but she managed it.

"If you'll follow me?" A footman said, and so Inigo followed him without question to a small bathroom, where he washed up and put on the clean clothes that had been left for him. The footman was waiting, and took him to the kitchens and introduced each of the staff, mentioning the two maids attending Giulietta before they sat down to eat.

After an hour or so of pleasant conversation and the best lunch he'd had in a long time, one of the maids came in to tell Inigo that the Countess had been asking after him, and showed him the way.

"Inigo!" she said embracing him. "Oh, you've changed... where were you?"

"Kitchens," he said simply.

"Oh. Well, no matter, the tailor is here."

The hug was the topic of conversation below-stairs until Inigo returned, when everything went silent.

"Maria says she saw the Countess kiss you," the Cook said, accusingly.

"Well, yes," Inigo said, confused. "She _is_ my wife."

Suddenly everyone was on their feet, standing sharply to attention.

"Uh, please don't do that, it makes me nervous," he said, "I'm just a peasant. I love her, and I'll do my best to play the part of a nobleman for her if that's what she wants, but if I could sneak off down here sometimes and just be a man, I'd appreciate it..." There was a lot of decidedly uncertain rumbling, but eventually they agreed that it would be acceptable, so long as he didn't make too much of a habit of it and didn't take liberties with the maids.

In their own way, the servants tended to look down on the silly, helpless nobles. Inigo wasn't really one of them, but nor was he a servant, he wasn't part of their little kingdom below stairs. He seemed like a spy in their midst. The staff in all the Cardinale homes learned to be a little less formal with Inigo than with the rest of the family, but they acted as though it was an eccentricity to be accommodated, like Giulietta's dressing in peasant clothes when she'd been young. Soon enough, he stopped trying to make friends with the servants and settled into the business of being a nobleman. Other nobles treated him differently, of course, and he was never quite accepted as one of them, but they were generally sociable enough.

When they'd returned to Italy, Inigo had been surprised by the welcome he got from Romero and his family, but it seemed that Giulietta had been right about him. All the man really cared about was doing what was best for his sister, and as Giulietta was just about glowing with happiness, then the Spaniard was alright with him. They even rode out hunting together occasionally, and the boys were keen to show their new uncle all their favourite places and involve him in their games – eccentric uncles get to do these things, where Fathers in their role of agents of the law, do not. They were, keen, too, that as they were now ten years old, they should start to learn the sword.

Romero thought they should wait until they were twelve, but the whining of how uncle Inigo had been learning the sword and out making his way in the world as a man at their age soon wore him down, and they were bought small, blunt swords so Inigo could start teaching them. It all kept him quite busy.

He missed the easy camaraderie he'd had with Fezzik, but they could at least exchange letters, now, and the giant, it seemed, had never been so happy. After a while staying with Garstell, he'd picked up the language, learning it from his tiny friends, and soon made friends with their friends too.

After a few months, Giulietta had fallen ill, and Inigo had been frantic with worry until someone had pointed out quite what tended to make women sick in the mornings. Sure enough, a few months later he was presented with a son, and then he was too busy to think about anything else but his little Domingo. How could he have given the boy any other name?

Romero's sons were disappointed at their uncle no longer having much time for them. The tutor their father had employed for them was nowhere near as much fun and hadn't done anything nearly so interesting as having helped rescue a princess, but he could teach them Latin and Greek and Mathematics as well as swordsmanship, so they were stuck with him.

Of course, there was a team of nannies and nurses and servants of all sorts for Domingo, but Sir was entitled to his eccentricity, and if he wanted to help changing nappies and calming the little one down when he cried, and be the one whose clothes were ruined by digestive upsets after feeding time and all the other women's work, servants' work, well, so long as they were paid anyway, let him.

Giulietta wasn't quite so keen on getting involved with the messy, smelly parts of being a mother, but she was happy enough to sit on the floor and make her little man giggle with silly faces and gaudy toys, and if his first word was Daddy, and if it was always Daddy he wanted when he was upset, well, what did that matter? She'd always run to Nanny when she skinned a knee or fought with Romero, never to her parents, and she'd cried for days when Nanny had gone off to work for some other family when she was 12.

Domingo was walking around – unsteadily – and getting into everything, climbing the furniture and keeping his father and the servants running around keeping him safe by the time Giulietta started getting queasy again. It was twins this time, Francesca and Rebecca. It wasn't so much that Inigo was less interested in them because they were girls, as that Domingo was running around and demanding his attention all the time and they were just infants, but Giulietta found that the girls were more _hers. _

She still didn't do any of the messy parts – why should she? She'd already done the really hard bit - but as they grew, it would be Mummy and not Nanny who the two girls ran to. As the children got bigger, things evened out a bit, and Francesca turned out to be a real Daddy's girl, while Alessandro, their youngest by a few years, was quiet and serious, and preferred reading with his mother.

A few times Fezzik visited with Garstell and his children, but then he'd written about the orphanage he'd talked Garstell into setting up, and how the children needed him there so he couldn't leave any more, and so they'd all gone to visit him instead. Alessandro, only four years old, had been terrified of the giant at first, having never seen him before. He wasn't too keen on all the peasant children and all the noise they made either, but Fezzik had seen and shooed them all away and found him the most wonderful book, and at once they were firm friends.

Fezzik had married a local widow who had come to help with the orphans, but only because he'd heard people saying it wasn't right that they weren't married. She was a good deal older than him, and in fact, mothered him terribly, which he didn't mind one bit. Fezzik never had any children of his own, but he'd have been surprised if anyone had ever pointed it out. The way he saw it, he had more sons and daughters than _anyone, _and he loved every one. He kept in touch with all of them, wherever they ended up in the world, and they'd all tell their children tales of the friendly giant who cared for the children who had nobody else.

On the way back to Italy, Inigo was reunited with Westley and Buttercup, but only because the Pirate couple had attacked their ship. The Dread Pirates had realised who the rich passengers were and called off the attack before anyone got hurt, and Westley had managed to convince the ship's Captain that in fact the whole thing had just been a bit of a lark that had got out of hand. What sort of Pirate would have his wife and young children on board?

Waverley's birth hadn't been an easy one for Buttercup, and it had changed her. Suddenly, she'd felt that if she could do _that_ and be alright, then surely she could do _anything,_ and actually, this Pirate business looked like far too much fun to leave it to the boys.

It happens sometimes that people who think they're not really much good at anything try something new as adults and find they have a talent after all, and it had been that way with Buttercup. She wasn't _amazing_ with a sword, but with Westley's help she was soon able to defend herself well enough, and before long, she was capable of attacking well enough to deal with the average sailor. The main thing she had to her advantage, though, was her training to be Queen. Inigo had noticed how Romero could tell people to do something and they'd do it automatically, without thinking, and Buttercup had learned to do that too.

Half the time, she just had to stride onto the deck of a ship they'd attacked and the crew would be moving anything of value over to the _Revenge_ before they'd had time to think about what they were doing. She could stop men in their tracks with a look, and a twitch of an eyebrow could turn them to nervous wrecks. The legend of Roberts was getting old, now, and so they'd put it about that she was the old Pirate's daughter, and that gave pause to any man who would have tried to dismiss her as just a girl.

Her second pregnancy had been far easier, but she _was_ starting to think that perhaps a pirate ship wasn't the _best_ place for a child to be born, and as much as Westley loved to see his beloved work, he'd not intended to keep the _Revenge_ for so long. The trouble was, now that they'd established that nowadays Roberts was a Dread Piratess, they'd have to find a woman to take over, and female pirates really weren't that common.

The ships went their own ways after a day or so, and Inigo thought that would be the last he'd ever see of them, but six months later they'd turned up in Madrid. How they'd known the family would be there Inigo never did find out. Apparently they'd given up on finding a suitable replacement for Buttercup, and when she'd found that she was expecting again they'd sold the _Revenge_ and set up home in Malaga.

Buttercup's dream of a little cottage with roses round the door had moved on somewhat during her years as the terror of the high seas, but still, their home was modest compared to their wealth, a pleasant little villa, with only ten bedrooms. The three couples didn't see each other that much in the years to come, but still they were all content.

Fezzik had his orphans, Buttercup's villa _did_ have roses round the door, and stables to keep her occupied, and the Montoya-Cardinales bounced around their various homes or visited with other nobles, which helped ward off Inigo's itchy feet. The thing which really made it all perfect, though, as far as Giulietta was concerned, was when the Spanish King visited them in Madrid and tried to make Inigo a Duke. He'd dealt with other Kings before, of course, but this was his _own_ King. He was so shocked and confused, and half-convinced he was dreaming, that he'd not managed to say anything much in return, but when the King made it clear that the price of the title was Inigo's sword, he'd emphatically refused.

The King took it quite well, even if Inigo _had_ sworn at him. He actually found it so refreshing to not just be obeyed unthinkingly that he insisted that Inigo accept at least the rank of Count. Inigo panicked, not knowing what might be expected of him from such a thing, but having the vague idea that it probably involved commanding armies, he squirmed his way out of that as well.

The King was a little miffed, and more than a little confused, and so went on his way the next day, which if nothing else saved them the great expense of entertaining him.

"It's things like that which remind me why I love you so much," Giulietta told him later. "Only you would ever do something like that. Most men, once they've had a taste of the power and wealth would simply want more, but you..."

"Those men are fools," he said. "I have all the wealth in the world, right here. I would have even if we were beggars in the street."

"You know..." she began, giving him _that look_ again. "I still have those peasant clothes... shall we go and find a hay-loft?"


End file.
